


We Speak No Lies Here, We Only Cast Illusions

by DailyDay



Series: A Grim Fairy Tale [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, BAMF Gavin, BAMF Ryan, Fake AH Crew, Freewood - Freeform, M/M, Omega Gavin Free, Omega Ryan, Omega Verse, gta verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DailyDay/pseuds/DailyDay
Summary: Once upon a time, there lived a hardened killer and a heartless manipulator. An alpha and a beta, respectively, as was clear to anyone who had interacted with them...Or so the story goes(Alternatively: Gavin and Ryan's stories before the Fake AH crew, in a world filled with Alphas, Betas, Omegas and even more assholes.)





	We Speak No Lies Here, We Only Cast Illusions

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the first in an installment of pieces of omega/omega relationships. There will be no smut as of yet, as I’m more interested in looking at the societal impact. 
> 
> This is also the first in an installment of Ryan and Gavin as they fall in love, join the crew, and live life as the BAMFs they are

It wasn’t often that a name in this business became as ubiquitous as that of the Vagabond. A name whispered in the back of seedy bars, inscribed on the walls of alleys and striking fear into the hearts of men. He was a nightmare personified, wreaking vengeance of others and of his own. 

The Vagabond was never underestimated, and never overestimated, because he was the best. Stealth, infiltration, pinpoint accuracy and guiltless ruthlessness, he seemed to be born to be a mercenary. He never flinched, he never hesitated, and he worked only for those he chose. There was no red on his ledger because it had long ago disintegrated in a sea of bloody bodies.

The myths that swirled around him seem more God than man. One said he had taken out an entire precinct with one pistol and half a clip. Another that he had been trained under the Godfather himself. Some said he had made a deal with the Devil, others said there was no need for a deal, for how could a man so chilling not rule the underworld.

Of course, there were rumours of what he did to those who double-crossed. Stories told to greenies, trying to shake them out of the biz. Stories so shrouded in mystery all that was agreed was that the consequences always involved blood spilt and eyes closed. Whatever one believed, all an employer could be certain of was that if he took your case, he was loyal to only your case. Whoever payed the piper could give him an order, but it was the piper alone who controlled his tune.

He was carnal and strong, led by his baser instincts. He was powerful and dominant, always being clear on who is in charge. Such a figure could only be an Alpha…

Or so the story goes.  
-  
If the Vagabond was shrouded in mystery, the Golden Boy was bathed in light, with all the shadows that implies. He’s a negotiator with a golden tongue, wheedling, manipulating and seducing those around him into playing right into his hand. He’s a showman made of gold, bending and shaping himself however he chooses, and never breaking. He’s a hacker with golden fingers, working in his own shadows, tearing down his enemies and building up his “friends.”

The Golden Boy can look straight at you and pull you from the shadows and bare you to the light with just his words, or with a few well-placed lines of code. Too often underestimated as overestimating himself, he could play the fool, or the asshole, but what he did best was make you play right into his hand. The Golden Boy didn’t deal with death, he dealt with life; more accurately, ruining them.

The Golden Boy was untouchable, able to convince you your greatest friend was you worst enemy, that a poison was an antidote, that a chunk of rock was a bar of gold. There are no rumours surrounding him, because he himself deals in rumours, and makes sure no one would even think to spread them about him. 

Though there were no rumours, there were details that, while unsaid, were known by all. You don’t touch someone under the Golden Boy’s protection, be it a cheap alley whore or a rich foreign dignitary. You don’t try to look into his past, his present, or his anything. And you don’t try to be anything more than an employer.

He was logical, unhindered by emotion. He was manipulative and malleable, unaffected by his surroundings. Such a figure could only be a Beta…

Or so the story goes.  
-  
The Vagabond and the Golden Boy. They never crossed paths, never worked the same case, hell, they barely touched each others’ realms. One was a cold blooded killer, hands digging deep into the mud, stained with blood. One preferred to orchestrate destruction, rarely getting directly involved. Yes, The Vagabond and the Golden Boy had nothing in common…

Except for their solitude. The Vagabond, the mad Alpha, clearly without an inch in his heart clear of black ink for there to be room for love. The Golden Boy, the heartless Beta, too above such silly things as love and lust to be tied down by a partner. They were entirely opposite in every way except for the fact that they were both completely alone, as was clear to anyone who knew of either.

They were cold and unattached. It was impossible that either of them were at all romantically entwined, and doubly so with each other…

Or so the story goes.  
-  
But sometimes…just sometimes, mind you… Well. Sometimes, stories are wrong

Sometimes, an Omega gets pushed too far gets harassed and touched and patronised one too many times. 

Sometimes, that Omega snaps, shrouds themselves with anger and leather and the cool bite of lead.

Sometimes, that Omega lets the rumours spread, lets peoples’ assumptions work in their favour.

Sometimes, an Omega becomes an Alpha.

If just in the stories.  
-  
And sometimes, an Omega gets of abandonment, of families born and found pushing him out for things he can’t possibly control.

And sometimes, that Omega runs across a country, across a continent, right across an ocean to build themselves into someone without a heart to be crushed.

And sometimes, that Omega lets the rumours spread, lets peoples’ assumptions work in their favour.

And sometimes, an Omega becomes a Beta.

If just in the stories.  
-  
And if two Omegas find each other in a shady bar, in a darkly lit alley, across battlefields and computer screens, over bombs and bookshelves, never judging, never assuming, and always wanting…

And if those two Omegas find each other again, over breakfast, over bedsheets, over brand new apartments, constantly leaving and always coming back…

And if those two Omegas work alone, but together, a snapped on com piece and a muscled bodyguard, eyes never straying and trigger always ready…

Well, they’ve got no one to tell but each other…

Or so the story goes.

(At least, for now)


End file.
